


That Would the Beloved

by JENGEORGE



Series: Love Is But a Bond [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Futurefic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JENGEORGE/pseuds/JENGEORGE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt's not the only one who can surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Would the Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to For What the Lover Would. Thanks to carolinecrane for looking this over and for letting me borrow her santa mug!

Kurt wakes to the feeling of a warm chest pressed against his back and gentle lips sliding along his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas,” Noah whispers in his ear, before working his mouth up Kurt’s neck.

“Mmm,” is all Kurt is able to reply, still hanging on to the fringes of sleep and feeling peaceful and content lying next to Noah in their bed.

A strong hand runs up his thigh and around his hip, and Kurt sighs and leans into the touch.  He still sometimes feels shocked that he gets to have this every day—Noah,  and _their_ home, _their_ bed; slow, lazy wake up sex, getting to feel loved and part of something bigger than he ever thought he’d get the chance to have.

It took them a long time to get here, but Kurt knows it was worth it.  Letting go of long held fear and anger, allowing himself to recognize that he’s not the same person he was in high school, and neither is Puck. In its place, finding love and trust; laughter and friendship.  Someone who knows everything about him and loves him for it, not in spite of it.

When he feels Noah’s hand curl around his erection and slowly stroke, Kurt shakes off the remaining vestiges of sleep, and presses into the hardness he feels pushing against his ass, earning him a low moan.

His muscles humming in contentment, Kurt knows he could come just like this, rocking between Noah’s hand and the teasing pressure against his opening.  But he can tell by the sounds Noah’s making that he’s got bigger ideas, so when Noah releases his cock and he feels the shock of cold air on his back as Noah shifts away, he holds back the whine caught in his throat and smiles for what is to come.

He relaxes when he feels the familiar heat return, and draws his knee up at the soft _snick_ of the slick being opened.  When he feels hot fingers circle his hole, he can’t help the groan that escapes him, and when those fingers push inside, he can feel that heat travel all over his body.

Kurt’s pushing back, needing more, and he knows Noah does too by the low, throaty moans he’s making.

“Noah, please,” Kurt whispers, and seconds later, he is being filled, over and over again, Noah’s  hand stroking his cock and whispering against his neck, “ _love you_ ”, and “ _so good_ ” and “ _mine_ ”.

“Yours,” Kurt gasps as he clenches around Noah’s cock and comes.

He feels the shudder of Noah’s orgasm pulse through him, and Kurt feels like he could come all over again from the sensation that courses through him.

Sated and comfortable, Kurt feels like he could drift back off to sleep when he hears a chuckle, and feels Noah’s tongue swiping across his stomach to clean him up.

“Don’t you fall back asleep on me, Hummel.  There are presents with your name on them under that tree of yours. Don’t you want to get up and open them?” Noah’s hot breath ghosts across the dampness on his stomach and his dick twitches at the sensation. 

“Maybe I’ll just keep you in bed all day,” Kurt answers as he pulls him up for a long, slow, kiss.

“Promises, promises.  Don’t think I haven’t seen you sneaking around trying to figure out what I got you for Christmas,” Noah says when they break apart.

“I’ll admit I’m curious,” Kurt answers as Noah gets up and pulls his boxers on.

“You’re a little sneak is what you are.  Good thing I’m better at sneaky than you are.”

Kurt doesn’t get the chance to do more that give an insulted glare before Noah is heading into the hall.

Kurt would never admit it, but he is dying to know to know what Noah bought him, because he _has_ looked—all over the apartment—and hasn’t found a single gift anywhere.

Kurt finally drags himself up out of their bed and feels around for the flannel bottoms he knows Noah left on the floor last night.  He pulls them on knowing that it will get him a raised eyebrow from Noah when he sees that he’s wearing them.  Kurt knows that he makes fun of them, but damn it, they’re comfortable.

As he heads into the living room, he can see that Noah has turned on the tree lights, and can smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen.  It brings back a flood of memories that for many years, Kurt wouldn’t allow himself to think about.  Of early, snow covered mornings, sparkly ornaments and shiny paper, his Mom wearing her pink tatty bathrobe, smiling at him and drinking her coffee from a ridiculous Santa mug that Kurt had bought her one year.  The look of delight on his parents’ faces as he tore into his gifts, and feeling like the most loved boy on earth.

Of course there are memories of Christmases after his mom was gone, but as much as both he and his Dad tried, it was never the same—for either of them.  When Carole and Finn became part of the family, they brought their traditions with them, and it was kind of nice to be around their enthusiasm and joy, but until this year with Noah, Kurt hadn’t even bothered to put up any holiday decorations in his old apartment after he moved away from home.

This year it just felt right, like it was finally time to start creating new memories.  Noah brought with him his memories and traditions to share with Kurt, and Kurt figured it was important to share his with Noah.  And he was surprised to find it didn’t hurt like he thought it would.

When they’d gone home at Thanksgiving, he’d asked his Dad if he could take some of the old ornaments from the attic.  His dad had smiled knowingly, he himself having needed to find love to bring back the joy of Christmas.

As Kurt assembled his tree, Noah sat and listened to him explain where the different ornaments had come from and shared memories from the Christmases where they first appeared.  It was cleansing and when Puck came and wrapped his arms around Kurt and whispered, “It’s beautiful,” Kurt felt complete in a way he didn’t know he was lacking.

And he has loved getting to learn about the Hanukkahs of Noah’s childhood.  Some good, some bad, but all of them steeped in a tradition thousands of years old.  Getting to stand next to Noah as he lit the Menorah filled Kurt with a wonder he hadn’t felt since he’d been a child.  And, not that he’ll ever tell, but as he stood there and listened to Noah’s rich, deep voice recite prayers learned long ago, Kurt gave thanks for his life and for Noah being in it, just _in case_ anyone was listening.

“You’d better not be opening any of those before I get out there,” Noah calls out from the kitchen, and that is when Kurt notices the pile of presents under the tree that could only have been wrapped by Puck.

“You’d better hurry up then,” says Kurt as he heads into the kitchen and is met with the sight of Noah, humming Jingle Bells and swaying his hips in front of the stove, flipping pancakes, wearing only his boxers and the Santa hat that Kurt gave him two weeks ago.

Kurt can’t help but flush at the sight of the hat.  It’s not that he’s embarrassed—far from it—but  it still amazes him how comfortable he is with _Noah Puckerman_ , of all people, to even want to do things like that, and that they share a trust that takes their intimacy to a level Kurt’s never experienced with anyone.

“Hey, I’m making pancakes, here.  I poured your coffee, it’s on the counter.” 

As Kurt heads over to the counter he sees that, indeed, there is coffee waiting for him—in a Santa mug?  In fact Kurt’s pretty sure it’s his _Mom’s_ mug, but that can’t be, can it?

Noah steps up behind Kurt and says, “Your dad gave it to me last time we were home.  Said he thought you might like to have it now.”  Seeing how affected Kurt is, he adds hesitantly, “It’s OK, right?  I didn’t do it to upset you.  I can…”

“It’s perfect,” Kurt cuts in with a whisper.  “Thank you.”  Realizing that Burt Hummel is a very wise man, Kurt feels the tiniest bit of sadness that they aren’t going home so he can see him.

As he closes his eyes and sips at the hot liquid, he almost feels like his Mom is there with him.

~

Surrounded by the remnants of some of the tackiest gift wrap he’s ever laid eyes on, Kurt looks at the wonderful gifts he’s received.

It’s not that he doubted Noah’s gift-giving abilities (those Knicks tickets he received for his birthday aside) but Kurt is thrilled by how each gift shows how much Noah knows him.

There are books that Kurt’s casually mentioned wanting to read, tickets for an off-Broadway production he’s been hoping to see but is sure he hasn’t mentioned, even a sweater that Kurt thinks will look perfect on him.  Noah is not an avid reader, nor a fan of the theater, and his fashion sense often leaves a lot to be desired, but knowing that he takes the time to know these things for Kurt leaves his chest tight.

Of course, Kurt should have guessed what kind of gift he would find in the small, blue paper wrapped package, but he still can’t hide his blush, or hold back his laugh when he opens the box to find a pair of padded handcuffs and a note that reads, ‘ _next time it’s my turn.’_

“Should we try these out now?” Kurt purrs as he pushes through crinkled paper and crawls into Noah’s lap for a slow, heated kiss.  He’s only half-kidding.  After their intense experience with the ties, Kurt has been wondering what it would be like to be on the other side of things.

“We’re not done here yet,” Noah says breathlessly when Kurt pulls back.  “You haven’t checked your stocking.”

“You know, for a Jew, you make a very thorough Santa.”  Kurt grinds down on Noah’s lap, knowing he’s being a complete tease, before climbing off to grab his childhood stocking off of the mantle, which he hung after finding it tucked into the box of ornaments—courtesy of his dad.

Noah’s eyes are glowing as Kurt reaches in and pulls out a red envelope, and Kurt has no idea what this gift could be that has Noah so keyed up.

Sliding his finger under the flap, Kurt sees what appears to be some kind of tickets, but it isn’t until he pulls them out that he sees that they are _plane_ tickets.  Two seats aboard Delta flight #417 to Dayton International Airport for the day after tomorrow.

“How…when…” Kurt is too stunned to complete his thought.

“Listen, I know we agreed it was too expensive for us to fly home for such a short amount of time, but I know you’ve been missing your Dad, and, well, since we both already have the time off, I used the money I’ve been saving to get the motorcycle fixed up to get the tickets.”  Noah’s voice sounds nervous and excited as he adds, “You want to go, right?”

“You used your bike money?” Kurt is flabbergasted that Noah would use the money he has been slowly socking away to finally get his old motorcycle up and running again.  “You’ve been saving up forever.  That’s more important than me going home.”

“You’re more important,” Noah says simply. 

Kurt is too touched by the statement to continue the conversation, so he steps closer and wraps his arms around this amazing man who loves him.  He knows that this is a Christmas he will never forget.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispers.  “You are amazing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Noah says, making a face that takes Kurt back nearly five years.

“And I forgot modest.”

“Yep, that too,” Noah says with a laugh.  “He already knows we’re coming, but you should call your Dad and let him know that you got the tickets.”

“Later,” Kurt murmurs as he runs his hand down Noah’s back to cup his ass.  “I think I promised to keep you in bed all day.”

“I thought today was for _you_ to get presents,” Noah murmurs against Kurt’s neck, as he starts backing Kurt down the hall.

“Oh, I assure you that I have purely selfish motivations,” Kurt gasps as Noah sucks on his collarbone.  “Grab those handcuffs and I’ll prove it to you.”

“I knew you’d like those.”

“Puckerman, you have no idea.”


End file.
